Customer Reviews

Boss

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Heard these guys in DC a few years ago and jeepers did they unleash an ungodly caterwaul of noise and other aural atrocities -- and it was delicious. So imagine the chorus of delightful surprise that has met the Markers' latest: wow, song structures! And are those really acoustic guitars and pianos? Yes kids, with the blessings of tourmates Sonic Youth (produced by Lee Ranaldo for Thurston Moore's Ecstatic Peace label), we are now witnessing a kinder, gentler Magik Markers -- albeit still pretty spooky weird. With the opening sixtysecond gtr squall of Track 1 (drink deep!) as the only real reminder of where they came from (ok, count the openings of Tracks 7 and 9), the remainder of this disc pretty much rocks in the straightforward sense. Granted, there are often no chord changes. And Elsia Ambroglio intones rather than sings, even one-upping Kim Gordon in this respect. Cat Power fans will especially want to check out Tracks 4 & 8, the latter of which is, well, downright purty. Is Ambroglio going for singersongwriter chanteuse crown here? Regardless, Track 2 is the punkrocker of the bunch while Tracks 5 & 6 smolder and brood. (The latter opens: "I'll admit it is a death trip / tried it on but it don't fit" -- take that Iggy!) And sure nuff you kin nod yr head to it all.

one of the most underrated of 2007. while a lot has been said about the implementation of song structure on this record, there is still more than enough dissonance and angst to keep things interesting.

I am at rest now. My knife is by my side and I am cutting farewell cake in my mind. It is a divine send-off, complete with "This is my sword" jokes and theme park delusions, jelly rolls shoved down discolored gullets and untested quirks now quickly in season.

Like Sonic Youth's little snot-nosed sister, this duo plus SY's Ranaldo try to get moody with blind tension and fail miserably, facedown drunk in the alley, piss puddles shining like rude stares. I forget if I'm insulting or complimenting. I'm more comfortable trying to read my oily aura. Fuzzy gutter chirps. Perhaps the din is to mask the singsong gurgle. Maybe by bringing it all down, we build it back up? we reason. It's a strange demographic we are addressing for example: Disenfranchised, ironic, barbaric, and attentitive.

Don't fall for it, Randy.